


Part 3 - 5.3

by windsorblue



Category: Ocean's (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-30
Updated: 2005-09-30
Packaged: 2018-10-17 04:42:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10586658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windsorblue/pseuds/windsorblue
Summary: picks up about a week after Part 2 - Miss September 1969





	

**Author's Note:**

> picks up about a week after Part 2 - Miss September 1969

title: Part 3 - 5.3  
author: windsorblue  
pairing: Danny Ocean and Rusty Ryan  
fandom: Ocean's Eleven  
warnings: swearing  
theme: #3 - jolt!  
note: picks up about a week after [Part 2 - Miss September 1969](http://www.livejournal.com/community/30_kisses/298504.html)  
disclaimer: I don't own Ocean's Eleven. If you do, then be happy and well in the knowledge that you make more money in a week than I have in my entire working life, and that you have much better, bigger and more important things to do with your time than hassle me.

  
Danny kept checklists in his head the way soccer moms kept coupons - organized, compartmentalized, kept just so. Don't mix up the detergents with the cereals, and don't mix up the big jobs with the little ones.

Basher was sitting on the couch in their suite. Laid out all over the coffee table in front of him was what some might call a witches' brew - powders and chemicals and wires - to Danny it was just Basher's business and he was doing it and that was that. Check.

Set up on the desk to his right, Livingston had two computers, each showing scrolling lines of text that might has well have been Babylonian as far as Danny was concerned, but Livingston was his Rosetta Stone, hunched over his keyboards and muttering to himself. Check.

The Malloys were out. Blowing off steam, hopefully. They'd been on Danny's last nerve all damned morning. Check.

Reuben was having lunch at Spago's, chatting up the types of people who needed to be chatted up - the types Danny didn't have the patience for, the types Rusty would try to charm out of their underwear just out of amusement. Check. Reuben could damn well keep Spago's, as far as Danny was concerned - Spago's couldn't grill a decent steak for shit.

Frank and Bobby Caldwell were on a plane flying in from Chicago, landing at LAX in - Danny turned his wrist and looked at his watch - three hours and fourteen minutes. Check.

Rusty was leaning against the door frame on the other side of the room with a Blow Pop in his mouth, looking at Danny as if he was the funniest thing he'd seen all day. Danny shook his head - that was about where Rusty would be at this stage of the game. Check.

There was a low, ominous rumble then - a noise that started somewhere in your gut and pushed itself out of you - out your ears, through your skin, shook your molecules around in a way that molecules don't like to be shaken. The rumble turned into a bang, and the floor began to shake. With wide eyes Basher grabbed for a couple of his tabletop powder kegs, pressing them steady with his palms. Livingston dove under the desk - on all fours with his arms over his head and his ass sticking out. Rusty - well, Rusty just tightened his lips around his Blow Pop and gripped the door frame in his fingers - eyes darting around to see what would fall.

And then it was over, one of those only-a-minute/feels-like-a-year moments. Danny filed it away, next to the coupons and the big jobs, and as he did he took a second to notice how many of those moments had Rusty in there somewhere.

The light fixture over the coffee table was still swaying when Basher started to laugh. "Bloody hell, eh? When it comes to a proper disaster, you just can't top ol' Mother Nature, eh?"

Livingston started to crawl out from under the desk, scowling deeply. "I hate California. This is why I hate California. Why would anyone live somewhere the ground shakes? It's craziness, I tell you!"

Danny walked over to him and gave him a hand up - shaky-legged, but not about to show it. "It was just an earthquake. Nothing to get all worked up over."

"Just an earthquake..." Livingston grumbled. "Gonna knock the whole state into the Pacific one day..."

"Not one that small," Rusty put in. "That one was probably about..." He glanced at Danny and raised an eyebrow. "5.1 - 5.2, maybe?

"5.3, tops." Danny nodded. He crossed the room as if he were going to pass Rusty by and paused. "You good?" He all but whispered.

"I'm good," Rusty replied. He grinned then, pulling the Blow Pop out of his mouth - his lips drawn together like an unspent kiss - so it made a noise as he did. His eyes traveled over Danny's body like he owned it. "So, did the Earth move for you, too?"

Danny smirked in spite of himself. He brushed Rusty's shoulder as he stepped past him. "Doesn't it always?"  



End file.
